Unholy Player-Chapter 83: Returning with Triumph [BONUS]

A gentle breeze stirred the dry earth. Dust lifted into the air, and the once-still stream now trickled faintly, its sound slicing through the silence like a quiet melody of relief amidst lingering tension. A small group of soldiers stood motionless, eyes locked on the slowly fading gray smoke.

After witnessing the kind of explosives Adyr had shown them earlier, the fact that he could now create such dense smoke with a much smaller item didn’t surprise them. He was a practitioner—one who wielded powers born of the Unknown. What they did never required a logical explanation.

"Lady Vesha... do you think...?" Siris spoke hesitantly, her eyes never leaving the thinning veil of smoke.

The battle had started loud, chaotic. But for some time now, that noise had been swallowed by this shifting gray curtain. And the silence within had grown more unsettling with each passing second.

"He’ll win," Vesha said firmly. She had been traveling beside Adyr for days, sharing his path, witnessing his encounters. And she had no doubt—he would come out victorious again.

The smoke thinned, carried away on the wind, until two figures slowly took shape.

One was the massive, dark-blue Spark, its body collapsed like a broken statue, covered in deep, bleeding wounds. And in front of it stood Adyr, calm, expression unreadable, hair tousled and drifting in the wind.

"He won," said a soldier, breaking the silence. It was the first reaction, and the others could no longer hold back their emotions.

"Lord Adyr slayed the Spark!" Shouted another, and soon more voices joined in, rising together in triumph.

They had held their breath for so long, forced their excitement down for too many minutes, and now released it all at once, shaking the silent wasteland with their cheers.

Siris didn’t stop them. She was just as thrilled as the rest. And she didn’t doubt that soon, this story would be told across the lands by wandering bards. What she did feel was pity for those who would hear the tale but never see it with their own eyes. She and a handful of knights had witnessed something no story could truly capture.

Adyr stepped out from the thinning smoke and began walking toward them, eyes slightly unfocused as if reading something in the air.

[You have captured a rank 2 Spark. Begin subduing process?]

– Cost: 100 Energy

This time, he had the energy to subdue the Spark. But he didn’t confirm immediately.

Right now, he held three Sparks and only had enough energy to subdue one.

Aqualith’s sudden burst speed skill was undeniably useful, but Null Maggot’s ability to dull senses also fit his cold, calculated fighting style perfectly. On the other hand, Hollow Mimic’s debuff skill—warping perception—could be just as effective, allowing him to disorient enemies and turn their own senses against them.

It wasn’t a decision he could make lightly. He needed to think it through.

As Adyr approached, the voices of the soldiers died down one by one. Soon, all stood in silence, saluting him with discipline and awe.

"Can you load the Spark’s body onto one of the carriages?" Adyr asked, motioning toward the creature’s massive frame lying behind.

Siris glanced back at the carriages they had arrived in. There were six in total. Two had been completely wrecked during the fight—thanks to Adyr—but the rest were still usable.

"Your word is our command, Lord Adyr," she replied confidently.

The hard part—defeating a Spark—was already done. Transporting it would be the easy part.

With renewed excitement, Siris gave out orders to her troops, instructing them to remove the top of one of the carriages to make space for Aqualith’s body. While they worked, Vesha quietly stepped up beside Adyr.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" She asked. Just in case he needed to recover, she had already prepared several live animals—one even a mid-sized sheep—waiting in one of the carriages.

"No, I’m completely fine. Thanks," Adyr replied. His body ached from the blows he had taken, but nothing serious. After a brief pause, he added,

"But I can eat something if we have any." The fight had drained him. And strangely, it had left him starving.

"Of course," Vesha said with a bright smile before hurrying to one of the wagons. A moment later, she returned with a boxed meal she had asked the maids to prepare earlier.

As Adyr quietly ate, his eyes remained on Aqualith’s body, now being carried to the carriage by the knights.

Thankfully, it was large but not as heavy as it appeared. The knights managed to lift it without too much difficulty. After securing the body with thick ropes, they reported the task complete.

With everything handled, one thought lingered in everyone’s mind.

It was time to return to the capital.

And they were all looking forward to the grand entrance they would make through the gates of the city.

—

Life in the Velari capital thrummed with its usual rhythm. The streets were alive with movement. Vendors called out, offering fresh produce, handmade wares, and steaming food wrapped in cloth. The clink of cups and the hum of conversation spilled from the cafés lining the square, where families and friends gathered under the shade of canvas canopies to share their midday meals.

But beneath the familiar bustle, something felt amiss.

People glanced around more often, their voices lowered to hushed tones. There was a quiet tension in the air—not panic, but a collective stillness. It was as if the entire city had paused, waiting for something.

"Did you see the commotion this morning?" a woman in a plain black dress asked, leaning slightly toward the fruit stand. Her voice was low. She placed a few bronze coins on the counter without meeting the vendor’s eyes.

The older man behind the stall, calm as ever, began packing her fruit into a cloth pouch. "You mean that knight convoy heading out at sunrise?" He gave a short snort. "Yeah. The whole street froze to watch. Those were Draven banners, weren’t they?"

"They were," the woman replied, her tone tinged with unease. "I haven’t seen them move like that in months. Think they’re trying again?"

Everyone familiar with them remembered how, three months ago, they had tried to stop a Spark from blocking the river stream but ultimately failed.

Before the man could answer, a voice from the next stall cut in.

"I heard Lord Orven had a Practitioner in his mansion this morning." The vegetable seller, a round-faced woman with a sharp tone, leaned in with a look of excitement. "Maybe that’s what it’s about, huh?"

The fruit vendor narrowed his eyes. "Thalara, didn’t I just say it’s probably nonsense? You think practitioners grow in fields like turnips? What would one be doing here? Sightseeing?"

He handed the bag to the customer with a frown and pocketed the coins.

Thalara gave an exaggerated shrug, unbothered. "Why not? My cousin works in the Draven household as a maid. She saw it with her own eyes. Guards everywhere. No talking allowed. You think she made that up?"

She knew it sounded far-fetched, but she trusted her source.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Across the capital, the same whispers spread. In homes, bakeries, tea houses, and merchant shops, people repeated the same three pieces of information:

A stranger had captured a rank 2 Spark in a nearby village.

The next morning, Lord Orven had hosted someone in secret.

And not long after, a heavily armed convoy under Draven colors had departed the city.

Three events. Closely timed. Too clean to ignore.

What had started as idle market chatter now clung to the corners of the capital like fog. For the first time, people began to wonder if the rumors were more than just gossip.

And if something far greater had already begun, the next moments would bring the answer.

’’Look! The Draven convoy is coming back!’’

The shout rang out, sharp and sudden, drawing every eye toward the main street. Conversations halted. The crowd shifted as people pressed forward for a clearer view.

Then they saw it, and the shock hit like a wave.